


Kink Caboodle

by Triangulum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Body Shots, Breeding, Caning, Cis Female Stiles Stilinski, Come Inflation, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Fisting, Flogging, Food Play, Formalwear, HaleCest, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Impact Play, Incest, Inflation, Knotting, Lactation Kink, Lingerie, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Masochism, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Nipple Play, Object Insertion, Omorashi, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overstimulation, Pegging, Public Sex, Riding Crops, Sadism, Scent Kink, Seduction, Sensory Deprivation, Size Difference, Sleepy Sex, Somnophilia, Spanking, Spitroasting, Stockings, Telepathic Bond, Threesome - M/M/M, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, Watersports, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, Xenophilia, distracted sex, pussy slapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 18,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: Kinktober 2018 Teen Wolf pieces





	1. Steter - Inflation

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t decide if I wanted to do Teen Wolf or Darcyland for Kinktober, so I’m doing something very ambitious (stupid) and doing both! Teen Wolf prompts will be filled here and Darcyland/MCU prompts will be under [Kink Assemblage.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157666/chapters/37753286) We’ll see how well this goes.
> 
> As always, please heed the tags and any warnings at the beginning of each chapter. Tags will be updated as story goes on.
> 
> Thank you to Green and Mal for letting me whine about title ideas!

Stiles whines, legs shaking. He's on his hands and knees in the middle of Peter's bed and it's pure stubbornness that's kept him from collapsing forward so far. They've been at this for hours, long enough that Stiles is wrung out and exhausted, but Peter isn't nearly done. For the first time in almost a decade, Peter has gone into a rut. Now they're holed up in Peter's room, barely having time to eat and drink while the rut recedes between rounds.

"Perfect." Peter growls the word into Stiles' neck, plastered against his back. He bites down at the skin that's already red and bruised from his teeth. Stiles whines, tightening around Peter's thick cock knotted in his ass. "So perfect for me."

"Peter, I can't," Stiles says with a whimper when Peter reaches between his legs. Despite his protests, he's hard, cock angry red and dripping.

"You can," Peter says. He trails his hand up from Stiles' cock up to his belly, over the little bulge that's there because of how many times Peter's come inside him, how many loads that are locked deep in his body. "You were made for this, sweetheart. You body needs this. _I_ need this. And we both know..." Peter pauses, nipping at his throat. "We both know I'm insatiable."

Stiles has the brief thought that of course Peter's still obnoxiously coherent in the throes of his rut before Peter thrusts forward, his knot lodging even deeper inside of Stiles. Stiles shouts, cock jumping against his belly because Peter's right, damn it. He loves this, loves being full, loves being made to take it. He loves looking down and seeing his stomach bulging with come, his body wrung out and used for pleasure.

Peter grinds into him, his knot pressing against his prostate, his hand working over Stiles' aching cock. He feels almost raw from coming so much, unaware his body could even do this, but then Peter's coming again, another flood adding to that delicious pressure inside him, and Stiles can't hold back. He _screams_ , coming nearly dry in Peter's hand.

Sated for now, Peter lowers them to their sides, cradling Stiles' trembling body against his. He coos softly in Stiles' ear, telling him how wonderfully he takes it, what a perfect mate he is. His hand is brushing over Stiles' belly, obsessed with how distended it is, all from his doing. They have maybe an hour before Peter's rut comes back with a vengeance. For now, Stiles will rest and thank the werewolf gods that Peter can help the pain from his poor abused hole.


	2. Peter/Erica - Watersports

Erica squirms in her chair, taking a shallow breath, but it doesn't help. Peter's had her on a strict schedule all day, telling her what to drink and when, and that she's not allowed to use the bathroom until he says. And he definitely hasn't said. He's sitting across from her at the kitchen table in his apartment, eating his steak like he doesn't have any idea she's a breath away from pissing her pants.

"Peter," she says quietly when the desperate twinge in her bladder is too much to ignore.

Peter looks up, eyebrow raised. "Do you need something?" he asks. Bastard.

"I have to pee," she says.

He shakes his head in mock disappointment, as if this isn't exactly what he wanted. "You're an adult, aren't you? Can't you hold it?"

"No," she says with a whimper. She's almost afraid to move, she needs to go so badly. 

"Maybe I should put you in diapers since you can't seem to control your bladder like a big girl," Peter says. Erica whines, a bolt of arousal shooting through her. She's been turned on since lunch, since the first hint of the urgency hit her. Her cunt is slick in her panties, clit swollen and needy. "Fine. Go get ready."

Erica stands slowly, briefly clenching her thighs together in fear that she'll lose control and piss right on his floor. He watches her hungrily, almost like he'd like to see her lose control of her bladder like that. She makes it to his bathroom, though, carefully stripping of her clothes. Peter follows her in just as she's taking off her panties. He tsks when he seems them, picking them up from the floor.

"Did you already piss yourself, honey?" he asks, running his fingertips over the crotch of her panties, which he knows are soaked with her arousal.

"No," she says, flushing brightly as she steps into the shower stall. She turns her back to him, legs spread, hands against the wall. The position he always wants her in.

"No?" he says. She can hear him stripping behind her. He's moving slowly to torture her, knowing she's barely hanging on by a thread. "Are you turned on by this? Are you really such a filthy little piss whore that you're turned on by being unable to control your bladder?"

Erica flushes bright, hanging her head between her shoulders. "Yes," she whispers, knowing he doesn't do rhetorical questions when they're like this. He expects an answer, and he'll get one. 

Peter steps behind her, running his hand between her legs. His fingers traces over her wet and swollen labia, chuckling. "Such a desperate little slut," he says. He stuffs two thick fingers into her cunt, pressing forward toward her bladder. She cries out, a few drips of urine slipping out of her. Peter withdraws his finger and slaps her cunt, making her shriek. "Don't you dare let go until I tell you."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she says, desperately trying to hold back. Her legs are shaking with her need, bladder twinging almost painfully with how much liquid is inside her. 

Peter doesn't say anything, but then the blunt tip of his cock presses against her entrance and she can't help but sob. She knows what he wants, knows that he's going to make this hard for her. He's going to fuck the piss out of her, pound into her until she has no choice to piss all over herself. 

Peter doesn't ease into her gently, but thrusts forward until he's buried deep inside her. The pressure on her bladder is killing her and she knows she won't last long, not with how hard and deep he's fucking her. Her body rocks with his thrusts, the water she's been drinking all day sloshing around inside her. She's going to break, she knows she is. There's no way she can hold out, especially not when he reaches around and rests his hand low on her belly, over the little bulge where her full bladder is distending her stomach.

"Okay, you dirty piss slut, you can let go," Peter says.

The words are barely out of his mouth before Erica's releasing her hold, hot piss streaming down her thighs. Peter grows, setting his teeth against her neck an fucking her harder, his cock driving into her and she pisses over them both. She sobs in relief as Peter fucks her through it, until her legs are soaked and her bladder's empty.

Erica's trembling by the time she's done, both in relief and with how turned on she is, desperate to come now that her bladder isn't a pressing need. 

"You're not going to come yet," Peter grunts in her ear like he knows what she's thinking. "Nasty little whores you piss themselves don't get to come until I say so."

Erica nods, fighting off her orgasm as he reaches between her legs, rough fingers brushing over her soaked clit. She knows she's going to be used well tonight.


	3. Peter/Allison - Sensory Deprivation

Allison doesn't come to Peter for anything vanilla. She doesn't seek him out for something any of the fumbling boys in the pack could give her. She spreads her legs for him because she knows he can give her something they can't. She'd hated it at first, hated that he had this power over her, but she's accepted now that he has what she needs and she knows he's happy to give it to her. 

Allison is tied up in Peter's bed, her wrists secured to the headboard, her ankles strapped to the corners of the bed so her legs are spread wide. Between the blindfold covering her eyes, completely blocking out the light of the room, and Peter's preternatural stealth, she has no idea where he is or what he's doing. She's been like this for an hour, unable to see and hear anything, startling when suddenly he touches her, drawing his fingers up her bare calf, rolling a wartenberg wheel over her bare breasts, kissing over her cunt.

There's a fine tremor running through her body, pussy wet and swollen between her legs. She knows Peter could keep her like this for hours, teasing her until she's an even bigger mess, but she also knows what he wants to see. She knows his kinks just as much as he knows hers.

When Allison hears the creak in the floor by his bedroom door, a creak she knows he wanted her to hear, she strains at her bonds, knowing he's watching. She rolls her hips up, as if desperately seeking friction, putting her soaked cunt on display. She could easily get out of her ties, but she _likes_ pressing against them, likes feeling them hold her down while she writhes in his bed. She barely has to fake the desperation, her need to be touched so close to the surface.

Peter chuckles somewhere off to her left and she knows she has him. She still can't hear his movements though, so when he touches her inner thigh, she still jumps a bit. He laughs again, his fingers trailing through the wetness smeared between her legs. Before she can arch into the touch, his fingers disappear. She can't bite back the whine of frustration this time, much to her embarrassment. 

There's a slap against her skin and she cries out, Peter having hit her breast with his riding crop, soothing it immediately with the feather on the opposite end. Having the sting followed by the softness of the feather confuses her nerve endings and, as usual, sends heat between her thighs.

Peter does it again and again, alternating breasts until she's sure her skin is red and angry. The next time he hits her, he dips a hand between her thighs, pressing two fingers into her with no warning. She shrieks in pleasure, his fingers curling against her g-spot right when he slaps the crop over her nipple. Peter barely has to brush her clit with the heel of his hand before she's coming with a gush, soaking his fingers and the bed underneath her. Peter doesn't let up, fucking his fingers into her faster until she's coming again, oversensitive and shaking. 

Peter always knows how to rip the pleasure from her body, how to play her in ways others wouldn't even guess. She'd never go anywhere else for this, and he knows it. Smug bastard.


	4. Peter/Chris/Stiles - Spitroasting

It hadn't taken much for Chris and Peter to lure Stiles into their bed. He's always stared at them, eyes lingering on them when he thinks they aren't paying attention. They're never not paying attention. It just takes a few subtle innuendos and one very frank discussion of how much fun they would have and Stiles is sold. He comes to their house that night after the pack meeting, practically reeking of nerves. 

Peter, usually one to enjoy playing with his prey, doesn't bother, not wanting Stiles to have any reason to overthink this and back out. As soon as he opens the door, Peter is tugging Stiles in by the back of the neck, kissing him roughly. Chris plasters himself against Stiles' back, running his hands up and down his sides.

It's barely any effort to maneuver Stiles down the hall and to their bedroom, shedding clothing as they go. The end up on the bed, Peter sitting against the headboard. Stiles is on his knees between his thighs, licking up his cock. Peter's been craving Stiles' mouth for months, maybe even years, and Chris is more than happy to let him have it. He's enjoying the view he has anyway, Stiles' bare ass on display, already slick and shiny.

Chris chuckles, kneeling on the bed behind him. He runs a hand up Stiles' thigh, enjoying how his muscles twitch under his touch. He brushes his thumb over his wet hole, smirking when it clenches, Stiles whining around Peter's thick cock.

"He's already wet," Chris says to Peter, sinking a finger into Stiles. "Did you finger yourself before coming over here? Were you that ready to be fucked?"

Stiles groans and pulls off Peter's cock, panting slightly. "Didn't want to waste time. You should definitely fuck me now," he says. He doesn't wait for Chris' answer, instead sucking Peter back down. Peter groans, his head hitting the headboard and Chris suspects that Stiles' is mouth is as good as his fantasy. 

"Smart boy," Chris says, twisting his fingers inside Stiles. His hole clenches around him, Stiles making a muffled noise between Peter's thighs. "Remember for next time, though, that I enjoy this part." 

He presses against Stiles' prostate, making him cry out, before withdrawing completely. Chris takes the time to drizzle lube on his cock before pressing forward, tip nudging at Stiles' hole. Stiles pulls off Peter's cock, resting his head on his thigh and panting. Chris moves forward slowly, watching that sweet hole part so willingly under the head of his cock. Stiles swallows him up greedily, hard cock jerking between his thighs.

"We knew you'd be perfect for us," Peter says, stroking his fingers through Stiles' hair. "We've been waiting for this, sweetheart. We're going to make sure you never want to leave our bed again."

Stiles groans when Chris sinks fully into him, hips pressed against his ass. Stiles blinks dazedly for a moment before lifting his head, mouth going back to Peter's cock like he needs it. Chris doesn't hesitate, pulling back and thrusting forward, forcing Peter's cock deeper into Stiles' throat. 

Stiles rocks between them, rolling his hips into Chris' thrusts, enthusiastically sucking Peter at the same time. He's perfect between them, even better than they'd imagined, and Chris knows Peter's already planning how to get him back in their bed again. He'd do the same, but his concentration is blown on the wet heat surrounding him, the way Stiles takes him so perfectly.

Judging by the noises he's making, Chris knows Peter isn't going to last long. His hand is already tangled in Stiles' hair, his hips jerking upward. Chris reaches between Stiles' thighs, stroking his hard cock. Stiles moans around Peter, his hole clenching around Chris' cock. Barely a minute later, Peter's coming with a shout down Stiles' throat, face screwed up in pleasure.

Stiles pulls off Peter's cock, resting his head on his thigh. With his mouth free, they're able to hear the sweet moans and whimpers he lets out clearly. Chris would love to hold out, to make Stiles come first, but the pressure is too good. He holds off for another dozen or so thrusts before he's spilling deep inside Stiles, a guttural moan escaping him.

Chris doesn't pull out and doesn't let go of Stiles' cock, stroking him quickly, mouthing at the back of his neck. Peter has his hands on the boy's chest, pinching his nipples and murmuring filth into his ear. Stiles shakes apart between them, crying out as he comes. He collapses forward onto his stomach, whining when it makes Chris slip from his body. 

Chris lies down on Stiles' left, Peter to his right, all of them taking a moment to catch their breath. Stiles nuzzles up against Chris' chest, his legs tangled with Peter's. Peter noses up the back of his throat until his lips are next to Stiles' ear.

"That's round one," Peter says.


	5. Peter/Stiles - Sadism and Masochism

Stiles is lying face down in the middle of Peter's bed on crimson red sheets, sheets that almost match the red of his ass and thighs. Peter's using his favorite cane, one that's been too much for his partners in the past, but Stiles, his perfect little masochist, loves it. There are dark lines marking the back of his thighs and ass, sure to bruise dark by tomorrow. He's crying and trembling, but he isn't near his limits. Peter knows them well and knows Stiles is still enjoying this.

"How many was that?" Peter asks, trailing the end of the hard cane over Stiles' abused ass. Stiles whines, shifting a bit.

"Th-thirteen?" Stiles says.

"Is that a question or an answer?" Peter asks.

"Thirteen," Stiles says firmly. 

He's right, but Peter waits a few moments before telling him, letting the tension build. 

"Thirteen," Peter says. "And we're doing how many?"

"Twenty," Stiles says.

Peter would love to do more, would love to see just how red and bruised Stiles' ass can be, but he flogged him for a little longer than he'd intended to earlier and he'd not looking to draw blood tonight.

"That's right," Peter says. He brings the cane down hard on the back of Stiles' thighs, making him cry out. There are tears rolling down his cheeks and he still reeks of arousal. "That's fourteen. My poor boy. Pain and pleasure gets a little mixed up for you, doesn't it?"

"Please," Stiles whines. "Peter, please, more..."

Peter brings the cane down twice in quick succession on Stiles' ass, right over the darkest mark. Stiles screams, back arching. Between the caning and rubbing his hard little cock against the sheets, Peter's sure Stiles is close to coming. He hopes he does. Peter loves watching him fall apart just from being hurt like this.

"You're such a wonderful little pain slut," Peter says. "Spread your legs for me."

Stiles does as he's told, spreading his legs and exposing his hole. There's a tremor running through him at the knowledge of what's going to happen next. Peter rests the cane over Stiles' hole, red and puffy from earlier abuse. He taps a few times before bringing the cane down hard. Stiles shrieks, but he manages to keep his legs open.

"Good boy," Peter says, tapping him with the cane. He brings it down hard again and this time Stiles' legs snap shut as he sobs. There a burst in his scent of arousal and Peter knows immediately that's he'd come on the last hit. Peter grins, tapping the cane over Stiles' ass until he opens his shaking legs again.

"You're not in trouble for coming, pretty boy," Peter says, resting the cane over his hole. "But you still have two left and you're going to take them."

Stiles nods rapidly, hands clutching at the sheets beneath him. Peter smiles, tightening his grip on the cane. He's saved the hardest for last.


	6. Cis Female!Stiles/Chris - Daddy

"Daddy," Stiles whines in that tone Chris loves so much. It means she's nearly incoherent, overwhelmed with the sensations rocking through her, and he's proud to have brought her here.

Stiles' wrists are tied to Chris' headboard, her legs spread wide. Chris is between her thighs, three fingers buried deeply in her cunt. He'll never understand the men who don't enjoy doing this for their partner. The hunters he used to run with were crude more often than not, bragging about their conquests, about getting off and getting out. They'd laugh if Chris brought up pleasuring their partner, so he stopped asking, but he can't imagine not enjoying this. 

He loves watching her fall apart and know it's because of him. He loves the way her legs shake when she gets close, the way she whines and says she can't take anymore, but she always comes for him again anyway. He loves the complete trust she gives him, something he's well aware is rare and something he protects jealously. 

"Daddy," she whines again, voice higher. Her lip is red and swollen from her teeth digging into it, a sheen of sweat covering her soft skin. She's already come once, her cunt soft and open, velvety inside. Chris leans down, licking over her swollen clit and pushing up against her g-spot at the same time. Stiles cries out, tangling a hand in his hair and she starts to tremble.

"Good girl," he murmurs against her cunt.

"Daddy, I can't..." she whimpers, but she already starting to tense, her leg spasming next to his face.

"You can. You're going to give me one more," Chris says. "Be a good girl and come for your daddy."

Chris sucks her clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Stiles shrieks, back arching off the bed as she comes with a rush of fluids, soaking the bed beneath her even more. Chris grins triumphantly and doesn't let up, not stopping until she's limp beneath him, body weak and spent. He pulls his fingers out, smiling at her whimper, and sucks them into his mouth, licking the taste of her off of him. 

"You're gonna kill me," Stiles says with a huff, eyes closed. Her chest is still heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

"Only if you're good," Chris says.

He'll give her a few minutes to recover. He has plans.


	7. Peter/Cora - Incest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: be advised, this is the incest part. It features Peter/Cora, some background Laura/Derek, and other implied Halecest.

Cora's almost asleep when she hears Derek's bedroom door open and close. The thing about being a werewolf is that every wall is a thin wall, so it's easy for her to hear the slight squeak of the frame as the bed dips under him and another after Laura joins him. Cora bites her lip, listening carefully. She can't make out exactly what they're saying, but she hears the second the soft words turn to moans. She can hear Laura's gasps, the low rumble in Derek's throat, the wet noises that Cora knows mean Derek's fingers are in Laura's tight little cunt. 

Cora trails her fingers down her belly, dipping into her panties. She drags her fingers through her folds, already slick, to circle her hardening little clit. Laura's breathy moans are getting louder, so are the wet, squelching sounds that mean Derek's fucking her faster with his fingers. Cora bites down her own moan, dipping two fingers into her cunt, her other hand massaging her breast. If Derek and Laura are home, that means - 

Cora's door opens before she can even finish the thought, Peter slinking in and closing it behind him. Cora grins, kicking her blanket off to show him her body, bare but for her panties, her fingers working between her thighs. Peter grins and stalks forward, stripping as he goes, and crawls on top of her, every inch predatory grace. He tugs her fingers from between her thighs and sucks them into his mouth, licking at the taste of her. 

"Starting without me?" he asks.

"You took forever," Cora says.

The sounds from the next room are louder, grunts and moans as Derek fucks into his twin sister. The tingling between Cora's legs is growing, her wetness seeping out of her. Peter tugs her panties down her toned thighs, tossing them to the side. 

"The peace talks took longer than intended," Peter says. "Would you rather talk about that, or would you rather I make you come?"

Cora spreads her thighs for him, showing off her glistening, swollen cunt. It's all the answer Peter needs. He slides to his belly between her legs, pulling her thighs over his shoulders. Cora moans at the first touch of his tongue to her needy cunt. Most of the time he likes to tease her, work her up until she can't hold back and she begs, but he doesn't bother tonight. It's been a long week with Peter, Laura, and Derek out of town. She's had her parents to keep her busy, but she's particularly fond of her uncle, and he of her. He seems to have been feeling the distance, because he buries his face in her cunt without any teasing, just pure need.

Cora gasps, her hand twisting in his hair as he licks at her clit, shoving two fingers into her cunt. His fingers are thicker than hers and are a bit of a stretch but that's how she likes it. Her moans are louder, matching Laura's one little wall away. Everyone in her family is talented in bed, but Peter is particularly good at playing her body, at yanking her pleasure from her quickly and devastatingly. He pulls out all his tricks now, nibbling at her labia in the way she loves, pressing insistently against her g-spot, and sucking on her hard clit. Cora pinches at her nipples, crying out Peter's name as he forces her to come, her sweet cunt gushing with her release.

Next door, Laura is shrieking as Derek knots her and Cora's cunt clenches in sympathy. Peter knows what she needs, withdrawing his fingers from her spasming pussy and crawling up her body. He kisses her harshly, licking into her mouth with the taste of her release on his tongue. The blunt head of his cock presses against her opening and she tilts her hips up until it catches and he can thrust into her. Cora screams, back arching off the bed. She can hear Derek curse next door, always so sensitive to her noises. 

Peter's thick, thicker than any other Hale, and she fucking loves it, loves him stretching her open and making a place for him inside her. He's rough with her, fucking into her deeply and roughly, fingertips digging into her hips. Cora loves it, can take it, and begs for more. She snakes a hand between them and rubs at her clit, shuddering as Peter growls in her ear about how good she feels, how much he's missed being inside her, how perfect her sweet little cunt is. She comes again when he sets his teeth against her throat, biting hard enough that if she weren't a werewolf, she'd bruise purple. She shakes in his arms, crying out wordlessly as he fucks her through it until he's coming inside her, flooding her with his come. He doesn't knot her, not yet. He wants to play with her more before he does that. He stays inside her though, kissing her softer now that the desperate need has abated. She grins up at him, clenching around him just to hear him hiss and swat at her side.

Derek will crawl into her bed in the morning, loving to slide deep in her soft, messy cunt after Peter's used her. Peter, always a voyeur, will watch as Derek fucks his baby sister, watch how her abused cunt swallows him up. Laura will be in with their mom and dad, her face in her mom's pussy, cunt stretched around her dad's knot. For now though, Peter will wait for the wonderful werewolf refractory period to end before taking her again and again until she's a mess and they're both too spent to move.


	8. Peter/Stiles - Angry Sex

The door to Peter's apartment flies open, Stiles stalking in. A moment later, Peter walks through, slamming it closed behind him. 

"I told you to stay at the loft," Peter growls. "I told you to stay out of danger!"

Stiles rips off his torn sweatshirt, throwing it onto the ground. "Well if you had told me your plan like I asked, I wouldn't have freaked out and run in!" Stiles shouts.

Peter bares his teeth in a snarl, stalking forward. "I want you safe! How hard is that to understand?"

"Well I am safe!" Stiles says. 

"Well I'm glad!" Peter yells back. "But I didn't know that, did I?"

"You should have trusted me!"

" _You_ should have trusted _me_!" Peter says, but his voice has that quality it takes when he's realizing he's wrong and he doesn't want to admit it yet.

"God, you're fucking arrogant."

"Says the stubborn ass," Peter snaps.

They glare at each other for a few moments before both moving at once. It's two steps until Peter has Stiles in his arms, kissing each other roughly. There are more bites than usual, the touches a little rougher, but neither of them is complaining, and neither is stopping.

Peter lets Stiles shove him down onto the couch and crawl over him, straddling his waist. Their hands are rough as they push each other's clothes off, though Peter's gentle when he sees the livid bruise blooming on Stiles' side. His kisses don't get lighter though, not when he's so enraged that his boy's been hurt. 

Peter rolls them so he's on top, his teeth harsh on Stiles' throat, biting dark marks on his pale skin. Stiles drags nails down Peter's back, making him hiss. They don't bother undressing, Peter just unzips their jeans and spits in his hand before he takes both their cocks, stroking them roughly. It's a little drier than they usually like, but neither of them feel like stopping. 

"I love you," Peter hisses as he squeezes his large hand around their cocks. Stiles whimpers. "I love you and I won't lose you."

"I love you, too," Stiles says, panting and rutting up in Peter's hand. "And I need you to trust me more."

They don't speak again except to curse and grunt the other's name. Stiles comes first, a strangled cry escaping him as he spills in Peter's hand. Peter drops Stiles' cock, taking his own in hand and stroking quickly, grunting until he's coming over Stiles' belly, painting his lover with his scent.

Peter collapses half on top of Stiles, half on the couch, mindful of the bruises, with his face shoved in Stiles' throat. Stiles wraps his arms around him, nuzzling at his temple. Neither of them speak until their heart rates are closer to normal, the anger mostly seeped out.

"I'll include you more in the planning process next time," Peter says, though it sounds like it's dragged out of him.

"I'll try not to run head first into danger," Stiles says.

"That's not nearly as reassuring as you mean it to be."


	9. Cora/Lydia - Lingerie

Cora's rarely unsure of herself. She knows how strong she is. She knows what she's capable of. She knows her worth. So staring in the mirror, this insecurity is an unwelcome surprise, one she isn't sure what to do with.

It's not that she doesn't think she looks good. She knows she does. The deep red of the lace bra and panties is just her color. Her pink nipples are visible through the thin lace, hardening in the slightly cool air. The tall heels and black thigh-highs held up by the red garter belt make her legs look miles long. She just feels...silly? Like when you're a child and try on your parents' clothes and look ridiculous. She'd thought Lydia would like this, but maybe...

Cora's debating whether to just take it off and forget the whole thing when she hears the front door open, Lydia coming home from work. She swallows and steels herself. She's Cora Hale. She's dismembered alphas and eviscerated wendigos. She can do this.

"I'm home!" Lydia calls out. They both know Cora knows the second Lydia's home, but it's a courtesy habit Lydia's never bothered to break.

Cora takes a deep breath and smirks the way she does when she's trying to entice Lydia to bed. She prowls out of the room, the heels clacking on the wood floor. Lydia's in the kitchen, putting something away from the sound of it. She opens her mouth to greet Cora when she comes in but freezes, a strangled noise escaping instead of words.

Cora can't help but preen. She made Lydia Martin speechless. And from the blooming scent of arousal, she knows exactly why. Cora leans against the doorway, casually crossing her legs, a hand on her hip. She doesn't break the silence, too amused at the rare sight of Lydia Martin reduced to staring.

Lydia's gaze travels down Cora's body, hungrily taking in every inch of her before rising back to her face, her eyes dark with desire. She stalks forward, more wolf-like than she's ever been, until she's in front of Cora. Lydia runs her hands over Cora's hips, up her ribs, over the lace of her bra. Her thumbs brush over Cora's hard nipples, earning a gasp, and Lydia grins, sharp and feral.

"Is this for me?" Lydia asks.

"Yes," Cora says, biting back the moan at Lydia's hands on her breasts. "I saw it and thought of you."

"You have a great eye," Lydia says conversationally, as if she isn't dragging her fingers down her girlfriend's torso, slipping into the front of her panties. "You're going to look so pretty coming for me in this."

Cora gasps, hand tightening on the door frame as Lydia brushes her fingers over her folds, already slick. Lydia circles his clit with clever fingers, knowing the best way to pull Cora's pleasure to the surface. She leans forward, placing light kisses up Cora's neck, fingers dipping into her wet cunt. Cora whines, grasping Lydia's arm.

"I want to eat you out until you're crying and can't think of anything but my name," Lydia whispers in her ear right as she curls her fingers, pressing against Cora's _there_. Cora cries out, legs shaking. "Bedroom."

Cora doesn't run to the bedroom, mostly because she knows she'll trip in heels if she tries, but she does go quickly. Lydia is right behind her and when they're next to their bed, Lydia pushes Cora back on it, and Cora lets her. Lydia crawls up her body, kissing up her inner thigh as she goes. 

Cora whines when Lydia presses a kiss right over her clit, over the lace of the panties. She expects Lydia to drag them off, but she just pushes the crotch aside, licking up Cora's wet slit. Cora gasps at the burst of pleasure as Lydia doesn't ease her in, but goes straight for her clit. There's no teasing, not gentle working her up, this is Lydia wanting to get her off fast.

"Play with your nipples for me," Lydia murmurs against her wet flesh before sliding two fingers inside her, making her keen.

Cora tugs the cups of the lace bra down, her pink nipples pebbled with arousal. She does as Lydia told her, pinching and rolling her nipples harder than most would like, but the perfect amount of sting to contrast with the pleasure between her thighs. 

"Lydia!" Cora says, trying to warn her that she's going to be coming soon, her orgasm building rapidly.

Lydia just hums and sucks at her clit, fucking her faster with her fingers. Cora shrieks, coming with a gush around Lydia's fingers. Her cunt's pulsing, Lydia milking out every last drop of pleasure from her, stopping right before it goes too much into pain.

Lydia smirks, triumphant, and crawls up the bed, sharing a lingering kiss with Cora, the taste of her cunt on her tongue. Cora wraps her arms around Lydia, tugging her even closer.

"Gimme five minutes, then I'm gonna need you to sit on my face," Cora says. 

Lydia grins. "Deal."


	10. Peter/Stiles - Telepathic Bond

Peter and Stiles, banned from sitting next to each other at most pack events because "Gross, no one wants to see that!" ("Speak for yourself, Derek," Erica had said.), are on couches across the room from each other. Everyone's noses are in books or in their laptops, searching for an answer to this week's supernatural mystery. Everyone, surprisingly, except Peter and Stiles. Their eyes may be on their books, but their attention is on each other.

"This is ridiculous," Lydia says, snapping shut another useless book. "How can no source have any information about telepathic bonds?"

"Deaton says it'll probably just fade," Scott says. "The witch probably just wanted to mess with them a bit."

"And you believe Deaton," Derek says flatly. 

Stiles and Peter aren't remotely paying attention. Peter, as studiously as he seems to be reading, is throwing his thoughts at Stiles through the newly minted telepathic bond. He's thinking of Stiles tied to his bed, spread out, covered in bite marks and come. 

Stiles, across the room, blushes bright red, breathing shallowly. He sends back a thought of his own, of Peter on his back, knotted tight inside Stiles, who's astride him and shaking from his orgasm. The real Peter's nostrils flare, his grip on the book tight. Stiles smirks and imagines it's Peter tied to the bed, Stiles licking up his cock until he's desperate to come.

Peter shoots back with Stiles running through the preserve, Peter hot on his tail. Tackling him, rolling on the ground until Peter has him pinned, taking him roughly in the middle of the trees. Stiles lets out a little whimper at that, though no one seems to be paying attention.

Not to be outdone, he sends Peter an image he's had in his mind for months. Peter, eyes alpha red, sinking his teeth into Stiles, eyes flashing werewolf blue. Peter taking him apart, fucking his new wolf, Stiles baring his neck in submission and murmuring, "Alpha..." 

Peter nearly tears the cover off his book.

"Eurgh," Issac, says, scrunching his nose up at the stench of arousal permeating the room. "Can you guys not? Seriously, can you think of anything else? Dead kittens, funerals, - "

"Your ugly face?" Stiles suggests. Issac flips him off.

"We're leaving anyway," Peter says. He tosses the book to the side and stalks across the room to Stiles, who just raises his eyebrow. Peter doesn't wait, just picks him up and throws him bodily over his shoulder before turning and walking out of the loft.

"We haven't found a reversal spell yet!" Scott calls.

"Can't talk, busy!" Stiles calls back, grabbing Peter's ass from his position upside down. "I have a werewolf to defile!"


	11. Cora/Erica - Object Insertion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this is a bit silly, just so you know. Also shout out to Twist for Cora's first line here.

"You cannot be serious," Erica says. "This is a joke, right? Did you inherit your sense of humor from Peter?"

"Actually, I did, yeah, but I'm not kidding," Cora says. 

Erica eyes the object in Cora's hand skeptically. It looks...well, it looks like a phallic-shaped rock. Which she supposes makes sense, since Cora is telling her it's going to have to go up her snatch. 

"Really, this is the way? The only way?" Erica asks.

"The book was pretty specific on what kind of "juices" it needs to be covered in for the spell to work," Cora says. "But hey, if you'd rather not banish the incubi running all over town, that's fine. I'm sure the general population would understand."

Erica flips her off. "And it can't be you with the rock up your vagina because...?"

"It says it needs to be by a 'created, not born' supernatural creature," Cora says. "Last I checked, I was a born werewolf, sooo..."

"Fine," Erica snaps. She tries to snatch the dildo rock out Cora's hand, but Cora pulls it just out of reach, smirking. "You're kidding. You're really going to stay for this?"

"And leave my girlfriend all alone with a magical artifact?" Cora says, eyes twinkling. "That would just be irresponsible of me."

Erica rolls her eyes. She figured Cora would stay. "Can't let me have my embarrassment alone, could you?" Erica asks.

Cora prowls closer, the predatory look in her eye that always makes Erica's wolf perk up. She steps right into Erica's face, nudging their noses together. When she speaks, her lips are brushing Erica's. 

"Who said it can't be fun?"

Before Erica can answer, Cora is pushing her back onto her bed, crawling up after her. She flips up Erica's skirt, rumbling in approval to see her bare beneath it. Before Erica knows it, Cora's on her belly between her thighs, licking up her slit. Erica cries out, arching her back. 

She and Cora have been together for a few months now and they've both made it their mission to learn how to please the other in every way possible. Erica knows that Cora loves to be filled in both holes, to be spanked, and exactly how to press against her g-spot.

Cora knows...this. She knows how hard to twist Erica's nipples, how to nibble at her labia and lick over her clit just the way that drives her crazy. Erica goes from skeptical to needy in about thirty seconds with her girlfriend's talented mouth. Then Cora slides two strong fingers inside her and Erica just wants to come.

"Cora," she gasps, hips tilting up.

"I know, babe," Cora murmurs against her clit. "Have to get you ready."

"I'm ready," Erica says, tilting her hips up. "Come on, please."

Cora gives her wet cunt one last lick before picking up the dildo (because that's what it is, really. A stone dildo.), gently nudging it through Erica's folds. Erica gasps at the blunt tip pressing into her. It's as hard as she'd expected, about the same as the glass toy she and Cora use, but it's warm, almost hot, and covered in little bumps and ridges that feel incredible sliding into her. It's suddenly less funny and ridiculous than it was at first.

"You okay?" Cora asks once it's seated all the way inside her.

"Ye-yeah," Erica says, moaning when Cora rotates it in her. "God, it's good."

"Good," Cora says, slowly pumping the dildo in and out of her. "You can come on it whenever you want, babe. Just let yourself enjoy it."

Erica wonders if the intense arousal is part of the artifact's effects or if it's just her, but she decides she doesn't care, not when it fills her so well, not when she can actually feel it pulsing within her, like its magic is soaking her up. Cora thrusts it into her faster, pressing her thumb to the side of her clit at the same time. Erica groans, cunt clenching around the dildo and god, that's good.

Erica starts moving her hips with Cora's movements, taking it deeper into her needy cunt. It feels...she can swear it's getting thicker inside her, stretching her even wider. Cora gasps in surprise so Erica assumes she's right, but she doesn't care, not when she's this full and this wet. 

"Don't stop," Erica moans out. "It's good, don't stop."

Cora trusts her, fucking the dildo into her, twisting it so she can feel all the ridges, bumping it against her g-spot. Erica is so close, has a brief, hysterical thought that she's about to come because of an aphrodisiac dildo rock, then it pulses inside her again, warm and tingling with magic.

Erica screams as she comes, cunt fluttering around the artifact inside her. She can feel it feeding off her orgasm, gathering its strength for the force of her pleasure. It drags it out of her, keeping her gasping and writhing longer than normal until finally it abates, leaving her sated and breathless.

"You're perfect," Cora says, kissing her inner thigh before slowly drawing the artifact out of her. Erica catches a glimpse of it and yes, definitely larger than when they started. "I'll be right back. Gotta get this to Stiles and Peter."

"Tell them if they make any jokes, I rip off their balls and use them as car antennae ornaments," Erica says sternly. As sternly as she can when she's still hazy from her orgasm with her legs splayed.

Cora salutes her on the way out the door, saying, "Get ready for round two, I have to see if I can make you scream like that again."


	12. Peter/Erica/Stiles - Licking

Erica, little hellion that she is, is one of Peter's favorites in the pack. Well, considering he can't stand most of them, there isn't exactly a lot of competition, but he can go as far as saying that he actually likes her. So when she cheekily suggests body shots at the pack's Halloween party, Peter actually nudges Stiles toward her, saying he'd love to. (Anyone else who looked at his boy like that would be dismembered. Slowly.)

Stiles stumbles forward, a little tipsy and blushing brightly. He glances back at Peter, making sure he's okay with it. Peter nods and Stiles grins. Erica makes him pull off his shirt before lying down on the table. Even over the pounding beat of the music and through the dark and flashing bright lights that fill the loft, Peter can hear Stiles' heart racing and see his skin flushing red.

Erica grabs the salt, cut up limes, and bottle of tequila from the counter and brings it over, setting it on the table next to Stiles. She leans over him and licks up his throat, glancing up at Peter with a look that lets him know she has some idea of the kinds of thoughts he and Stiles have had about her. 

Stiles makes a strangled noise as soon her tongue touches him, making Erica's grin sharper. She shakes salt over the line she just licked and sets a slice of lime between his lips. 

"Careful now," she says, balancing a shot glass of tequila on his chest. 

Erica licks the salt off his neck, slowly, nose nudging his jaw, before taking the shot off his stomach. She winks at Stiles before bringing her mouth to his, taking the lime from between his lips and biting down. Peter can smell Stiles' arousal and knows Erica can too, even with the weaker sense of smell that a turned wolf has. Peter's pants are uncomfortably tight just from watching, and he doesn't plan on letting it go to waste.

Erica helps Stiles off the table, giving him an appreciative once over as he puts his shirt back on. Peter can't blame her, Stiles hides under his baggy clothes but the body underneath is quite delectable. She looks like she's about to slink back off into the the core of the party where Allison, Boyd, Isaac, and Lydia are dancing, and, well, Peter can't have that. 

"I think it's your turn now, isn't it?" Peter says, stalking forward. 

Erica looks confused for a second before realization dawns and a burst of spicy arousal emanates from her. She hops up on the table, her heart racing in his ears, and lies down. She's wearing a low corset top, perfect for Peter to nestle a shot glass of tequila between her tits. 

Peter licks up her neck, nearly the same place she licked Stiles, and she shudders beneath him, her breath catching. He sprinkles the salt onto her skin before placing the lime wedge in her mouth. 

"Hold still for me now," he says lowly, just to see her reaction to the low rumble in his voice, her eyes dark with need. She's reeking of arousal now and he can smell the wetness between her thighs. 

Peter slowly licks the salt off her neck, grazing his teeth on her skin as he goes, making her tremble beneath him. He takes the shot from between her breasts, lips pressing to the soft skin of her tits, before covering her mouth with his, plucking the lime from between her lips. He makes sure to stare at her as he does, his nose brushing hers, his hand resting on her torso to balance himself. When he pulls back, her pupils are blown and she's breathing shallowly.

Stiles, standing next to Peter, is visibly hard, his hand curled into a fist at his side like he had to remind himself not to reach out. Peter grins, taking Stiles by the hand and tugging him closer to Erica.

"How about," Peter says lowly, just for them to hear, "we take you home with us and Stiles can show you what else his pretty little mouth can do?"

"Sold," Erica says immediately, swinging her legs down to hop off the table. "Though I expect to see what those long fingers can do, too."


	13. Peter/Stiles - Distracted Sex

Stiles and Peter like games with their sex. Not all the time, but once in a while one of them challenges the other, and neither of them are particularly good at backing down from a challenge.

"Stiles, I didn't say you weren't good at giving head, I merely said that I wouldn't be distracted from what I was doing to the point of incoherence," Peter says, a fake, sympathetic smile on his face.

And see, Stiles _knows_ exactly what Peter's doing. He knows because he's done it himself. He knows that Peter's just trying to get him all huffy and to prove how good his mouth is and bam, Peter gets a great blowjob out of the deal. Stiles _knows_ , and yet he's falling for it anyway.

"Fine," Stiles says. "Read your stupid book. We'll see who's right."

Peter doesn't even try to hide his victorious smile, the smug fucker. Whatever, Stiles has got this. Peter has sung praises to his mouth. His exes have all had amazing things to say about his oral skills and he knows this is so his area of expertise. He knows Peter, and he knows exactly what to do to make him fall apart. 

Peter lounges back on the couch, his thick crime thriller in one hand (Peter Hale's secret love is bad murder mysteries, pass it on), his legs spread. Stiles doesn't bother with a seductive crawl like he would usually, just drops to his knees, unbuttoning Peter's jeans and tugging them down. He's already half-hard, despite his feigned nonchalance, and Stiles just rolls his eyes. Such a lying wolf.

Stiles starts slow, licking a long line up Peter's cock from root to tip. Peter doesn't make so much as peep and Stiles knows he has to play this right. Go hard and fast too soon won't get him far, especially since Peter is someone who takes a while to come. He wants him to _want_ it. Go too slowly and he can hold on forever, stubborn jackass. 

Stiles wraps his lips around the tip of Peter's cock, slowly taking him into his mouth. He starts gentle and slow, lulling Peter into a false sense of security below pressing his tongue to the underside of his cock. Peter's hand pauses before turning a page, but he doesn't make any other indication that he's noticed. Unacceptable.

Speeding up, Stiles sucks harder, grazing his teeth just a little on the shaft the way Peter loves. He think he hears Peter's breath catch and feels a flash of triumph. Stiles digs his nails into Peter's thighs, dragging them upwards, feeling the muscles tense under his hands. He wraps his hand around the bottom of Peter's cock, the part he can't fit in his mouth, and jacks him in time with him sucking him down.

Peter hasn't turned the page in a while, and Stiles can see his hand gripping the arm of the couch tightly. He's close, Stiles knows he's close to losing his composure. He knows this is what Peter wanted, but he also knows he can't stop, that he needs to feel Peter let go. Peter's thick cock twitches in his mouth and Stiles knows it won't be long now.

Stiles goes for the kill, Peter's biggest weakness. He drops the hand working Peter's shaft down between his legs, pressing on the spot right before his hole, massaging his prostate from the outside. Peter exhales harshly, giving up all pretense and dropping his book to the side. He wraps his hand tight in Stiles' hair, hips jerking forward as he thrusts into his mouth.

It's only a few minutes before Peter is coming with a growl down Stiles' throat, cock jerking as he curses under his breath. Stiles swallows it all before pulls off Peter's cock and climbing into his lap, kissing him breathless.

"I win," Stiles says, voice rough.

"Do you though?" Peter asks. Smug fucker.


	14. Erica/The Pack - Distention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This includes breeding kink, FYI if that ain't your thing.

Erica whines, body trembling. She's on elbows and knees, ass in the air, as Derek pounds into her from behind. His hands are huge on her waist, gripping her tightly. It's his third time fucking her today and she's feeling it. Derek took her first, as is his right as alpha, followed by Peter, Boyd, and Stiles. Isaac had bowed out, uncomfortable when he's involved with Scott and Allison, but that's fine. 

They're here in Derek's loft because it's taken years but the pack is finally stable. They're older and wiser, the territory is safe, and it's time for the pack to grow. As if it knew, Erica's wolf had thrown her into heat. Derek had known exactly what it meant, had told them all it would be a possibility in the future. He'd taken Erica first before Peter had stepped forward, sinking deep into her needy cunt, followed by Boyd and Stiles. It's their responsibility to make sure her heat is successful, that she comes to bear at least one pup.

Erica cries out as Derek slams into her once more, cock jerking in her as he comes inside her again. She's red and swollen between her thighs, cunt throbbing from the abuse it's taken, but even so, as soon as Derek pulls out she's crying for more, needing to be full, body screaming at her for more. Peter takes her hips and slides in smoothly, no resistance from her sloppy, used cunt. She's taken multiple loads from all of them tonight, her usual flat belly distended from the amount of come inside her. And they aren't done.

Peter growls filth in her ear as he fucks her, telling her how good her cunt feels, how they're going to breed her again and again, how much they're going to pleasure her when she's round with pups. Erica's shaking underneath him, the hot pleasure rushing through her. It's like she _needs_ this, her body screaming that if she isn't filled and bred, she'll burn up. Peter's cock is thick and perfect inside her, soothing the ache that's screaming inside her for now. But soon he's stiffing up, cock pulsing as he empties himself inside her.

Boyd is there taking Peter's place as soon as he withdraws. It's his fourth time taking her since her heat started and it's like he can't get enough of her. He rolls her onto her back, wanting to see her face. She's covered in a sheen of sweat, skin flushed. There are healing bite marks and hickeys covering her and Boyd bites at the one he left on her collarbone, sucking it back to a dark red. The squelching noise her soaked and used cunt makes when he fucks her is obscene, but there's not a person in the room who isn't aroused by it.

Boyd rests his big hand on her rounded belly, imagining it swollen and full of pups. His other hand drops between her legs, playing with her hard little clit. Erica cries out, back arching as she comes (she's lost track of how many orgasms she's had at this point). The clenching of her cunt drags Boyd over the edge. He growls as he unloads inside her, flooding her already full cunt with his seed.

Stiles is there when Boyd pulls away, sinking his hard cock deep inside her. The desperate need is abating, the heat finally calming, but it's not gone yet and she still needs this. She sobs as Stiles fucks her, the pleasure and need from the day overwhelming her senses. He coos to her softly, tells her how good she's doing, how proud her alpha is of her. Derek kneels on the bed next to her head, stroking her hair. He tells her Stiles is right, that she's just perfect, how thankful he is that she's in his pack. 

Boyd and Peter crawl onto the bed, touching her where they can, thanking her for what she's given them, running their hands over her distended belly, proof of what they've done to her. When Stiles comes again, shooting deep inside her, Erica shudders, the burning heat finally receding enough for her to catch her breath. Stiles pulls out carefully, though she still groans at the sensation of their come trickling out of her. He rolls to his side next to her, resting his hand over Derek's on her belly. They all know she's been successfully bred.


	15. Chris/Lydia - Overstimulation

Lydia throws her head to the side, crying out. She strains against the bonds but knows they won't give, not when Chris is the one that tied them. Her wrists are tied together above her head, putting her bare breasts on display, and her ankles are tied to each end of the foot board, her pink, wet cunt exposed.

"You can give me another," Chris says. He has three fingers buried in her cunt, red and swollen from abuse, pressing insistently against her g-spot. The fingers of his free hand are fluttering against the side of her clit, hard and oversensitive from how many times she's come.

"I can't," she whines, trying to arch away from Chris' touch. He doesn't let her, only speeds his fingers' movements. She hasn't safeworded so he isn't stopping. 

"You will," Chris says. "You always say you can't, yet your pretty little cunt always needs it."

"Chris," Lydia says, his name trailing off into a gasp. 

"This is why you come to me," Chris says. "Your desperate little pussy can never get enough and you know what I can give you."

Lydia doesn't say anything because he's right. The boys she's slept with barely have the attention span to get her off once, if that, before shoving their disappointing dicks inside her and chasing their own pleasure.

Chris...Chris is different. Chris has the patience years of hunting have beaten into him. Chris has the eye for detail, the desire to please, and the hunger to watch her fall apart, knowing it's because of him. He's not satisfied with one orgasm, and the first time he hadn't stopped, licking her hard clit and fucking his fingers into her until she came again she'd been so shocked that she shrieked her orgasm.

And the thing is, he's always right. She always says she can't come again and he always shows her she can, always forces her body to give up at least one more for him. It's no different now, her body wrung out and exhausted, but he's still pulling pleasure from her when she thinks she has no more to give.

Her orgasm slams through her, shocking her with its ferocity. She gushes around Chris' fingers, something she can only ever do with him, shaking and crying out. 

Chris eases her through it, keeping his touches gentle, though his eyes are fixed on her, hungry for her. It takes a long time before her cunt stops fluttering around his fingers. He presses a kiss to her thigh and she sighs, relaxing into the softness of the sheets.

Then Chris lowers his mouth to her cunt, breath ghosting over her clit as he says, "One more."


	16. Cora/Lydia - Nipple Play

Lydia arches her back when Cora touches the vibrating wand to her clit, crying out when it shifts the chain of the nipple clamps. Cora grins, flicking her fingers over Lydia's clamped nipple, red and sensitive. Lydia whimpers, but she doesn't move away. It's a pain she likes, a pain that sends shivers down her body and jolts of pleasure to her clit.

Cora's been playing with her for the better part of an hour, licking and biting at her breasts, making her nipples hard and needy, before clamping them tightly. Lydia's been on the edge of coming ever since, desperate for any kind of friction, any sensation to push her over the edge.

She knows Cora wants her to beg, and Cora knows Lydia is going to hold out for as long as she can. It's a game between them, who breaks first. Does Cora want to see Lydia come apart more than she wants to hear her beg? Or will Lydia beg for more before Cora gives in? More often than not, it's Lydia that breaks first, though she would never admit it to anyone else.

Cora takes away the wand before Lydia can come against it, making her whine in frustration. Her cunt is throbbing between her legs, so close to coming that she can barely keep from screaming in frustration.

Cora smirks and leans over, pressing a kiss to Lydia's clamped nipple before tugging the chain, pressing the wand back to Lydia's pussy at the same time. Lydia screams, coming almost immediately. She writhes on the bed, trembling at the strength of the orgasm ripping through her. 

Cora pulls the wand away before she can get too far into overstimulation, turning it off and setting it aside. She gently removes the clamps, but Lydia still whimpers. Cora shushes her gently, cooing as she presses a soft kiss to each breast. She tells Lydia how wonderful she did, how pretty her nipples looked all clamped for her. She promises that next time Lydia will give in before Cora.


	17. Peter/Stiles - Seduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a club owner!Peter and magic!Stiles au.

Peter's been watching the boy since he came into the club smelling like cinnamon and magic. He catches Peter watching him once, raising an eyebrow. Peter salutes him with his drink and makes no move to make it seem like he wasn't watching every move he makes. The boy (well, not a boy, not if he's old enough to get into Peter's club) just winks and weaves his way back onto the dance floor, immediately approached by a cat shifter. 

Peter watches him dance when he can spare a moment over the next few hours, though business is good tonight and there are matters that demand his attention as owner. When he can, his eyes seek him out like a shining beacon, bright and smelling of delicious earth magic. 

When the busiest time of the night has ended, Peter leaves Derek in charge and slinks onto the dance floor. The crowd parts for him before spilling back into the empty space, consciously or not making room for the powerhouse among them. The boy is dancing alone, surprisingly, and Peter isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He slots himself behind him, not quite touching until the boy reaches back with two long-fingered hands and puts Peter's hands on his hips.

"You can touch," he says. He doesn't shout to be heard, which lets Peter knows he knows who in here is a shifter.

"Lucky me," Peter rumbles, plastering himself to his back. "Do I get your name?"

"You can call me Stiles," he says, and the phrasing makes Peter wonder if he's had run ins with the fae. 

"Peter," Peter says, following Stiles' movements.

"So you're the alpha," he says, voice a purr. 

"Looking for me?" Peter asks, breath hitching when Stiles rolls his hips back, grinding his ass against Peter's half-hard cock.

"Nah," Stiles says. He turns in Peter's arms, throwing arms over his shoulders as he presses close, bodies moving with the deep thumping bass. "I can just feel you. You kinda glow, dude."

"I can feel you as well, little witch," Peter says. "You taste like earth magic."

Stiles looks...delighted at that. He smells of spicy arousal and Peter pushes his luck, slotting a thigh between his legs. Stiles grins, grinding down on his leg with a groan, pressing up against Peter's hardening cock.

"Mm," Stiles says, leaning in to whisper in Peter's ear, bodies pressed together. "What else would you like to taste?"

Peter growls, pleased at how Stiles shivers against him. He takes Stiles' hand in his, nodding towards the stairs in the corner of the club that lead up to the office.

"Are you coming with me, little witch?" Peter asks. 

Stiles licks his lips, looking at Peter like he's the prey. "Fuck yeah, I am."


	18. Peter/Allison - Xenophilia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be clear, this is Peter fucking Allison in his full wolf form. So ya know. Be advised.

Allison trembles on the bed, positioned on her knees and elbows. This is it, the most hated, disrespectful thing she could do to the hunter code short of actually asking for the bite. She's here, naked in an alpha's bed, waiting for him to fuck her in his full alpha shift. Not just any alpha, but Peter Hale. Any respectable hunter would want to shoot her on sight for this. She doesn't care.

Peter moves silently through the room, already in his full wolf shift. Allison feels the slight shift in the air right before he jumps and lands on the bed behind her. Her breath hitches and her pussy, already dripping just from the thought of this, gets even wetter. Peter nudges the back of her thigh with his wet nose, making her jump. He licks up her soaked slit with his long tongue and she can't hold back the moan. 

Peter growls and oh god, that feels good. She knows if he were in his human form he'd be smirking but she can't care, not when she's close to coming just from his wolf tongue lapping at her. Before she can, Peter pulls away, much to her displeasure. 

She doesn't have to complain because then Peter's _mounting_ her, his huge wolf body over hers, thick fur against her bare skin, his front legs around her waist. He jerks his hips forward a few times until the tip of his thick wolf cock catches at her entrance. Allison screams as he thrusts into her, stretched wide.

Peter doesn't give her a chance to get used to it, just fucks her with abandon, slamming into her over and over with no thought to her pleasure. And Allison...she likes it. She likes being used like this, just a hole for him to use and get off on. Despite the humiliation and depravity, or maybe because of it, she can feel the pleasure building between her thighs. She rocks back into his thrusts as best she can, but he's a powerful beast and there's only so much leverage she has.

Allison's so close to the edge, then she feels him growing inside her and she realizes it's his knot. He's going to knot her. He's going to stuff her full of his come and lock it inside her like she's his bitch. The thought of that plus thickening knot rubbing against her g-spot are too much. Allison comes with a shriek, cunt clenching down on the knot stretching her wide. Her arms give out and she falls forward, her ass still in the air, Peter locked inside her.

Peter howls when his orgasm hits, flooding her insides with his warm come. His cock jerks inside her, filling her more than she thinks she can take. It's not _stopping_ , the amount of come he's pumping into her. She whines, pressing a hand to her lower belly, taut with how much is inside. 

Peter's rumbling growl changes to something more human, the soft fur against her back receding until it's just bare skin on her. His cock is still knotted inside her, keeping her full. Peter reaches under her, pressing a hand over hers on her belly. She gasps as it shifts the knot inside her and she's embarrassed to feel a jolt of arousal through her. Her usual flat belly is rounded with his come, his cock knotted in her like a dog, and she just wants more. 

"Such a cute little hunter," Peter coos in her ear. "The big, bad Argent future matriarch spreading her thighs for a wolf, letting me fuck her like a needy bitch."

"Shut up," Allison says, but it's weak and they both know it.

Peter grinds his knot deeper into her, making pleasure zing through her. She can't hold back a moan, a moan that turns into a cry when Peter hauls her up until she's kneeling, her back to his chest. It makes her sink even farther onto his knot and if he wasn't holding her, she would collapse forward.

"You love it," he hisses in her ear. "Let's see if we can get you to come on a wolf knot again."

Peter reaches between her legs with his free hand, clever fingers circling her hard little clit. She comes for him in less than two minutes, writhing in his grip. And she knows he's not close to being done.


	19. Peter/Stiles - Public and Formalwear

"We can't," Stiles says, but his protest is weak, trailing off when Peter kisses down his throat. "All our friends have super hearing, they - oh god - they'll know..."

"Let them," Peter growls, nipping at the skin above the collar of Stiles' dress shirt. "I don't care if they know I'm ravaging my husband."

Stiles groans, grinding against the thigh Peter has slotted between his legs. That's what they are. _Husbands_. He married Peter a half hour ago, cut the cake, danced, then sneaked off to make out in an empty hallway like two teenagers at prom.

They're still in their suits, though Stiles has ditched the jacket. He's knows what the sight of him like this does to Peter, grey waistcoast fitted, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He knows because looking at Peter in his black suit, broad shoulders and thick neck accentuated, does the same thing to him.

"We can't...in the hall of our own reception," Stile groans.

Peter growls and takes Stiles' hand, dragging him down the hall to - 

"Janitor's closet. Romantic," Stiles says, but he doesn't hesitate, letting Peter tug him inside.

Peter's on him in an instant, kissing him roughly, possessive hands cupping his face.

"You're mine. My husband," Peter growls. "My mate."

"And you're mine," Stiles says. "My wolf."

Peter shudders, teeth sinking into Stiles' neck. His legs feel weak, as always when Peter gets possessive like this. Then Peter drops to his knees in front of Stiles, making his breath catch.

He's already hard when Peter pulls his cock out of his pants, swallowing him down in one go. Stiles cries out, gripping Peter's shoulders. It's hard to not grasp Peter's hair, but they need to look at least semi-presentable when they're done.

Peter, always enthusiastic, is making it his mission to make Stiles come, and fast. He's pulling out all of Stiles' favorite things, a slight scrape of teeth, gently cupping his balls, swirling his tongue over the head on every bob of his head. It feels like no time at all before Stiles is swearing, coming down Peter's throat.

Peter grins up at him, entirely too satisfied at how come drunk Stiles is, and tucks him back into his pants before standing. Stiles reaches for him but Peter shakes his head.

"Not yet," Peter says.

"No fair! You get to play and I don't get to touch you?" Stiles says.

"Complaining about an orgasm, love? Not like you," Peter says. "Come on, our guests are looking for us."

Most of their guests will be able to smell what they've been up to and the rest will be able to guess based on the rumpled clothes and disheveled hair. Whatever, it's their wedding, they can do what they want.


	20. Peter/Stiles - Dirty Talk

"You know you want to," Stiles purrs from where he's perched in Peter's lap, grinding down against his hard cock. "You've been thinking about it all day, wiping the smell of that alpha off of me."

"Stiles," Peter growls, hands tight on Stiles' hips. "This is not the time to test my control."

"Mm, I think it's the perfect time," Stiles says, licking a line up Peter's throat. He doesn't need the careful Peter, the Peter that keeps the wolf away from him like he's scared it'll frighten Stiles away. Stiles wants the flashing eyes, the fangs, the claws. "I want the wolf," he whispers in Peter's ear.

"Stiles," Peter hisses and it sends a shock of arousal through Stiles to realize he's speaking around his fangs. 

"I want it. I want you to let all those werewolf instincts out and take me how you know you want to," Stiles says, grinding against Peter's trapped erection. He tilts his head to the side, baring his neck. Peter's claws prick against Stiles's side, making him shiver. "Come on, Alpha," Stiles says, voice ragged. "Don't you want everyone to know I'm yours?"

Peter's considerable patience snaps and in a move too quick for Stiles to follow, he flips them so Stiles is lying on the couch, Peter over him. His eyes are flashing bright blue, his breath coming in pants.

"Remember you asked for this," Peter growls.

"Oh I will," Stiles says, grinning.


	21. Peter/Stiles - Food Play

When Caitlin had offered Stiles this job, he had thought this would be fun. Or, you know, exciting? Getting naked and having people eat food off him sounded erotic and fun in theory, and it had been at first, but after the first dozen fetish parties, it starts getting a little boring. He just lies there for hours, Boyd occasionally placing more food on him or scaring off anyone whose touch gets a little frisky.

Caitlin was supposed to work this party, a local kink event, but a bachelor party had offered her a large amount of money so she'd switched with Stiles. Which is fine, he's just very bored. He barely notices people plucking strawberries and grapes off his torso, off his chest, too busy thinking about the biology paper his professor wants by next Friday.

Stiles manages to repress a sigh when Boyd nearly breaks the finger of a woman who tries to dig her talons into Stiles' thigh. He glances to the left of the bar counter he's lying on, watching her politely escorted out, when he sees possibly the hottest man he's ever seen. He's late thirties, early forties, thick neck, bright blue eyes, and broad shoulders that Stiles would love the throw his thighs over. 

And he's staring at Stiles, eyes heated. Stiles swallows hard, willing down the arousal blooming from just a look from this man. He looks like he wants to devour Stiles whole, and he doesn't mean the fruit on him. 

The man prowls forward, gracefully weaving between the people milling about. Some people are in fetish wear, some in lingerie, but he's in simple black slacks and a deep red button down shirt with the top few buttons undone. Somehow it seems more indecent than the woman he steps in front of in just pasties and a thong, but maybe that's because Stiles has a type.

A bomb could have gone off in the room and Stiles wouldn't have noticed, not with how he was being watched. He would bet his entire (small) bank account that he was a shifter of some kind. Stiles doesn't even realize he's holding his breath when the man steps up, attention purely for Stiles. Stiles rarely feels exposed anymore, not after doing enough events like this, but he feels completely laid bare in front of that intense gaze.

The man leans forward, carefully plucking a strawberry from Stiles' chest. His eyes don't leave Stiles' face as he takes a bite, red juice tainting his lips. Stiles swallows hard and he needs it to be his break like now, because there's nothing but a tiny g-string covering his cock and that's about to be embarrassing really quickly. 

"Boyd," Stiles says, clearing his throat roughly. "I'm gonna take my break now."

Boyd is good enough not to say anything snarky (Stiles would have if their positions were switched), just clears the last few pieces of fruit off Stiles' body and passes him the black robe he has behind the bar. Stiles sits up, turning his back to the man ( _Predator. Wolf,_ his mind screams) and pulls on the robe before hopping down from the bar. 

When he turns around, the man is still there, watching him just as intently. Stiles takes a deep breath and steps out to him, holding out his hand. 

"Stiles," he says. 

The man takes his hand but instead of shaking it, he raises it to his mouth, pressing a kiss over the pulse point of his wrist. There's no way he misses how Stiles' heart races at that, especially giving the slight smirk twisting his lips.

"Peter," he says. "Pleasure to meet you."

"I have about an hour left here," Stiles says, licking his lip as he looks Peter up and down. "After that, wanna get to know me a lot better?"

Peter's grin is wolfish. Called it.


	22. Peter/Erica - Impact Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of an offshoot of the [Mr. Hale's Personal Assistant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659107) thing I have where Erica is Peter's assistant and part of her bonus package is orgasms lol.

Erica is wearing high heels, a large, heavy collar necklace of diamonds, and a sparkling princess plug, nothing else. She's standing in her and Peter's hotel room, her blonde hair still elaborately curled and pulled back, makeup impeccable with smokey eyes and deep red lipstick. She and Peter are at an out of town conference, attending mixers and trying to attract new clients. Peter isn't picky about how that happens. If potential clients are drawn to them because he looks impeccable in his three piece suit or because Erica in her black dress looks like the epitome of lust, well, they have their attention and that's step one.

Erica had been perfect tonight, though he'd had no doubt she would be. She knows exactly how to lure men in, how to give them just enough to have them wanting more of her attention, wanting to impress her, and then they're hooked. She's used to being underestimated, having people look at her and see a dumb blonde. A hot one, but dumb nonetheless. And she knows just how to use that. And she'd done it all wearing the plug he'd worked inside her before the evening started.

Peter circles her like the wolf he is, taking in the way she looks in just the heels he bought her, the necklace he'd put around her neck. He trails fingers down her back as he passes, enjoying the way she shivers. She's a predator as much as he is, decimating those in her way, but she submits for him and his wolf. And it drives him wild. 

"You know what I want," he says, voice very close to a growl.

Erica doesn't say anything, just moves to stand behind the suite's couch, leaning over and bracing herself against the back, her legs wide. Peter hums and steps up behind her, running a large hand over her ass. He spreads her wide, exposing the bright pink jewel at the end of the metal plug nestled inside her. He presses against it, rotates it inside her just to hear her whimpers. He tugs on the plug slowly until it's at the widest point, stretching her rim before letting go, letting it sink back into her. Erica whines and he doesn't miss the scent of her arousal, and knows he cunt is already wet.

"So needy for me," Peter says, trailing fingers down to the wetness smeared between her thighs. She doesn't rock back into the touch, though he knows she wants to. "Such a good girl for me aren't you?"

"Yes," she says, her voice wavering. "Just for you."

"Good girl," Peter growls. He pulls his hand back and smacks it over her ass, She cries out, clenching down on the unforgiving metal plug inside her. He rubs over the blooming red mark on her ass, appreciating how her pale skin turns red so easily. "You've earned this. Just enjoy it."

Peter brings his hand down hard on the other side of her ass, watching the red cover her skin. He does it again and again, listening to the beautiful sounds of her moans and cries. She's always so responsive to him, always ready for whatever he gives her. When he reaches between her legs, rubbing her wet cunt before slapping her there too, she just moans for more, arching her back even more for him.

Peter pauses just long enough to retrieve the flogger in his suitcase, returning to her almost immediately. She's trembling, legs long and spread, balancing on the heels. There are juices running down her legs and at some point Peter wants to find out if she can come just from having her cunt slapped, but that's for a different day.

Peter trails the tails of the flogger over her abused ass, the cool leather on her hot skin making her squirm, but he knows her sounds, and the little gasps she's letting out are ones of enjoyment. He gives her no warning before he brings the flogger down hard on her ass. She jolts with the hit but doesn't move away, arching her back, presenting herself for more.

Peter isn't easy on her, not when he knows exactly how much pain she can take and more importantly, how much she wants. Her thighs and ass are red and stinging, the skin hot to the touch. He doesn't stop, bringing the flogger down again and again until her legs are shaking under her, barely holding her up. He knows how intense it is; every time she's hit, she tenses around the plug inside her, giving her a feedback loop of pain and pleasure until her poor little body doesn't know what to do with it. 

Peter tosses the flogger onto the couch, stepping behind her and crowding against her body. He reaches around her and between her legs, tucking two thick fingers into her soaked cunt. She mewls, clenching around them, desperate for anything. He presses his thumb against her clit and leaves it there, not giving her any friction.

"If you want it, you can ride my hand for it, princess," he growls in her ear.

Erica doesn't hesitate, grinding down on the fingers in her, rubbing against his hand desperately. He's insanely hard, has been since he'd slipped the plug into her hours ago, but he wants to see her fall apart first, wants the gratification of knowing he did that to her.

"Peter," she whimpers, legs shaking. He moves his free hand to her ass, tapping the base of the plug. She squeaks, cunt fluttering around his fingers.

"You're close, princess, I can feel it. Take your pleasure, you earned it," Peter says. 

Erica's pussy tightens around his fingers as she comes, a strangled moan slipping past her lips. It's only then that Peter moves his fingers, pressing against her g-spot and her clit, dragging her orgasm out until she's pushing him away, oversensitive. 

He'll give her a few minutes to recover before he pulls the jeweled plug out of her and fucks her pretty ass.


	23. Peter/Stiles/Derek - Size Difference

Peter's always loved to watch, a voyeur at heart. He loves watching his partners together, loves the contrast between them. Stiles and Derek are similar in height, and Stiles is not exactly skin as bones, but Derek is so much broader, his shoulders wider, his muscles pronounced, especially now that he's an alpha. He's stronger and _bigger_ , and seeing that next to Stiles' slighter frame just does something for Peter.

Peter watches Derek back Stiles against the wall of the loft, a rumbling growl in his chest. He plants his hands on the brick on either side of Stiles' head, pleased when Stiles' breath catches and he turns his head to the side, baring his neck to his alpha. 

Peter watches as Derek manhandles Stiles to the bed, pushing him onto all fours. He watches with excitement as Derek mounts him, powerful, big body dominating Stiles' slimmer frame. He watches, hard in his jeans, as Stiles cries out, presenting himself for the powerful werewolf behind him. 

Stiles looks around wildly, eyes finally landing on Peter. He whimpers and holds out a hand, inviting Peter to join them. Peter growls and stalks over, never able to deny his boy anything. Stiles looks small between the two Hales, his hole swallowing Derek's cock, Peter's disappearing down his throat. Their sweet boy, the human they've decided to keep and care for.


	24. Stiles/Allison - Pegging

Stiles groans, head hanging down. He's on all fours on Allison's bed, his hole stretched wide around the thick silicone cock. It's Allison's favorite strap-on, the kind that has a dildo and vibrator in the base for her to grind down on while she fucks him. It's been so long, they've been away at different colleges for months, and fuck he's missed this.

"You good?" she asks. To anyone else, she might sound unaffected, but he knows her, knows the way her voice goes just a little higher when she's pretending she's fine, the way her words are just a little quicker, her hands on his hips just a little tighter.

Stiles presses back against her, making both of them groan. "I'm good," he says. "Come on, fuck me, Allie."

Allison pulls back so just the tip of the toy in in him, then slams her hips forward. They both cry out, Stiles' more a guttural moan while Allison whimpers. They've had phone sex, even Skype sex, but it's not the same as having her with him, having her _in_ him. 

"Missed you," he pants as she thrusts into him. They're both needy and won't last, but that's fine, this is night one of winter break. They can get the energy out now.

"Missed you, too," she says. Her voice is high and breathy, her whimpers coming quicker, the vibrations right on her sensitive clit. He can't wait until he can flip her over and eat her out, taste every inch of her until she's an incoherent mess.

Allison's hands tighten on Stiles' hips and she grinds into him, the silicone cock rubbing over his prostate. Stiles whines, reaching a hand underneath him to wrap around his cock. He can tell Allison's close in how she's grinding more than thrusting into him, trying to get that vibrator on her clit, the toy deeper into her. 

"Fuck!" Stiles curses, legs shaking under him. He's so close, just a bit more, then Allison shifts, the dildo rubbing against his prostate in just the right way. He cries out wordlessly, trembling as he comes.

Allison pulls the strap-on out of him, not wanting to push him from pleasure to pain, and grinds it against the mattress, pushing the dildo deeper into her, the vibe rubbing against her clit. Before Stiles can recover enough to help, she's coming, gasping her orgasm, hunching over as her pleasure rips through it.

Allison fumbles with the strap-on, turning off the vibe and tugging it off. She collapses forward onto the bed next to Stiles, letting him tug her into his side.

"And to think, we got two weeks of break left," she says.


	25. Peter/Stiles - Olfactophilia (Scent)

Peter hates Twilight for plenty of reasons. He's met a vampire, and they were not sparkly and not reliving high school (that sounds like hell). Don't get him started on the way they portray werewolves, he has a dissertation ready and if someone even hints at curiosity, he will shove it down their throat.

But mostly he hates that goddamn line. "You're like my own personal brand of heroin." First of all, rude. Second of all...it's disturbingly similar to something werewolves can experience, and Peter is pissed that the werewolf ability to smell the compatibility of a mate is used by a crappy book series and turned into a quote printed on t-shirts. 

That's why when, after he's resurrected and somewhat sane again and he realizes what was so enticing about Stiles, what made him offer the boy the bite but not force him or hurt him, he curses for about ten minutes. Stiles will absolutely have read Twilight, if out of nothing but sheer curiosity, and will laugh at Peter until his sides hurt.

Peter says nothing. For years. He doesn't say that the smell of Stiles makes his wolf perk up, want to show off. He doesn't say that he wants to roll around in the boy's bed just to smell like him. He doesn't give in to the need to hold Stiles in his arms, burying his face in his throat.

Instead, Peter resolves to earn his trust. He shares knowledge, tells him things he never would share with the rest of the pack. He brings Stiles coffee when he's been up researching all night, forces him to take breaks to eat, even offers to bring a healthy dinner to the sheriff when Stiles can't pull himself away from research. 

Stiles can tell he's treated differently than the others, knows that Peter has some sort of affinity with him, but not the depth, and not what kind. He's suspicious at first, which Peter is grateful for. He doesn't want Stiles trusting anyone too easily, but he's pleased when the suspicion wears off in favor of gratitude. Friendship. Peter will be his friend because as twisted of a person as he is, as broken, he won't pursue Stiles as a mate while he's in high school.

Then Stiles is attacked because Peter's attention slips for one second. He's pulling a particularly feral beta off of Derek when the alpha of the rival pack sinks his dirty fangs into Stiles' shoulder, snapping his collarbone. Peter goes ballistic. He rips the alpha apart by hand, tearing off his limbs, opening his throat, ripping his heart out through his ribs, all while the pack watches, the alpha's betas fleeing in fear.

Peter collapses at Stiles' side, both grateful and enraged. Grateful that Stiles is alive, that the alpha had decided to turn him instead of killing him outright. Enraged that someone dared turned Stiles, someone that isn't him. Stiles grasps Peter's hand, both of them slippery with blood.

"I'm sorry," Peter whispers, anguished. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," Stiles says, voice tight with pain.

"I should have stopped him," Peter says.

"Look on the bright side," Stiles says, wincing as he lifts his arm, cupping Peter's face in his hand, his thumb brushing under his eye. Eyes that are burning red. "You've always wanted to be my alpha."

"Not like this," Peter says, shaking his head. 

Peter carries Stiles back to the rebuilt Hale house, ignoring anyone who protested. Derek told them all to shut up, that he's the alpha in Beacon Hills and he's fine with it. Not that that would have stopped Peter. 

Peter sets Stiles in his room, the room he never lets anyone in but Stiles. Cleans him up, lays him in his bed where he quickly passes out. It's not how he wanted Stiles' scent on his sheets. If Peter's nose is right, Stiles is already healing, the bite taking instead of turning his body sickly and poisoned. He stays by Stiles' bed even as he sleeps, not going any farther than the en suite for a few moments to wash off the alpha's blood.

The alpha power flowing through him is intoxicating, but it's the fact that he can feel Stiles, feel him as his beta in the back of his mind, like a bright, warm string...that's what's making Peter's head spin. And the fact that Stiles' scent, beneath the blood and sweat of the fight, is blossoming, becoming even more enticing. He knows now that Stiles is his, and he is Stiles. They're made to be mates by the goddess of the moon, the goddess of the werewolves. He falls asleep sitting next to Stiles on the bed, his hand held tightly.

Peter wakes up hours later with Stiles crawling into his lap. Peter, a bit sleepy and confused, steadies him with hands on his waist. Stiles is leaning in, sniffing at Peter's neck, nuzzling at his skin. Any other wolf and Peter would snarl and throw them off, not letting anyone close to such a vulnerable part of him. But...this is Stiles. And his wolf knows Stiles is theirs.

"Is this what I smell like to you all the time?" Stiles asks, lips grazing Peter's throat. "I just, god, I just want to lick you? Is that a thing? I can smell the others but it's not...it's not like this. It's different, isn't it?"

"Yes," Peter says, voice rough. Stiles' connection to him is bright and clear, his scent overwhelmingly pure and delicious. 

"I can feel you. Peter, it feels...it feels like you're mine?" Stiles says tentatively. 

"I am, love," Peter says, eyes flashing red without his consent. 

Stiles shudders, feeling his alpha's power. His _mate's_ power.

"Good."


	26. Peter/Cora/Derek - Lactation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note, this contains Halecest.

Peter and Derek are so lucky with Cora. She was insatiable before they got her pregnant, but it's gotten worse (better) since she found out she's carry their pups. It's perfect for Derek and Peter, because they hadn't thought it was possible for them to want her more than they did before. Then her body changed with pregnancy, belly rounding, skin glowing. Then her milk came in.

"Uncle Peter, hurts," Cora whines, arching her back off the bed. She's completely nude, stretched out on their soft sheets.

"Shh, I know, sweetheart," Peter says, crawling on the bed to her. Derek's already next to her, running his fingers through her hair. Peter settles at her side, cupping her swollen breasts in his large hands. She mewls, shuddering as he massages her breasts, milk beading at her nipples. "We'll help, little one."

Peter lowers his mouth to her breast, licking over her swollen nipple, the taste of her milk sweet on his tongue. He suckles at her nipple and massages her breast, encouraging her milk to flow. Derek latches on to her other side and it takes a few moments but then that sweet milk to bursting over his taste buds, filling his mouth. 

Peter and Derek drink from her, emptying her aching breasts, hands caressing her soft body. Cora's sobbing in relief and arousal, her hands wrapped tight in their hair, keeping them in place as if they would want to be anywhere else. 

"Please," she whimpers, spreading her thighs wide. Peter can smell how wet she is, reeking of arousal.

"Help your sister, Derek," Peter murmurs against Cora's breast. "Can't let her suffer, can we?"

Derek eagerly moves between Cora's legs, always happy to taste his little sister. Yes, Peter really did luck out with them.


	27. Peter/Stiles - Exhibitionism/Voyeurism

It's a rather archaic tradition, but the Bellman Pack is rather archaic, so Peter and Stiles are going along with it. Peter, alpha of the Hale Pack, confidently strides into the hall where they're meeting the Bellmans. Stiles is at his side as the emissary and alpha's mate. Both he and Peter are shirtless, Stiles with the tattoos running down his chest and arms on full display, enhanced with magic to make certain runes shimmer gold. They're an impressive pair, and they know it.

The Bellman Alpha, a fierce looking woman with dark hair and deep brown eyes, is already there, her emissary at her side. The man is slighter than Stiles, though Peter knows that counts for nothing when it comes to magic ability. He doesn't sense a particularly strong power aura about him, but that's Stiles' area, not his.

Peter and Stiles walk past the dozens of Bellmans gathered in the stone room, their footsteps echoing off the ground, and stop in front of the raised dais where Kathryn Bellman and her emissary sit. They don't bow, as much as she may wish them to, merely nod to her. 

"Thank you for making the trip," Kathryn says. 

"Thank you for inviting us to a treaty discussion," Peter says. 

"Are you still amenable to the opening peace ceremony?" Kathryn asks. She expects them to bow out. She expects them to say no and start the treaty discussions from a back foot, struggling to gain ground. She underestimates the lengths Peter and Stiles will go to win.

"We are," Peter says. 

Kathryn's face doesn't betray her surprise beyond a slight twitch of her eyebrow, but Peter catches it. It's a small victory. Kathryn makes a grand gesture with her hand and says, "You may proceed." Peter inclines his head, managing not to make it look too mocking.

There's a pile of decadent cushions waiting for them, because a mattress would look too much like a high schooler's trashy house party. It's a rarely used ceremony, sex in front of the pack you're negotiating with. It's meant as a show of trust, to be so weak and vulnerable in front of another alpha and pack. The rest of the Hales are at the back of the room and even if there were enough to fight against the dozens of Bellman members, they'd never get close to Peter and Stiles in time to protect them should anything go wrong. 

Peter admires the sentiment behind the ritual, the way it's meant to measure an alpha before negotiations even start. If someone backs out due to fear or embarrassment, it can lead to negotiating from a step behind. The thing Kathryn Bellman doesn't understand is that Peter doesn't do embarrassment and he's not afraid of someone like her.

Peter leads Stiles by the hand to the cushions, though leading him anywhere is for show only. Peter may be the alpha, but they're equal in all things. And they came prepared. 

Stiles lies on his back, letting Peter unbutton his jeans and pull them down his legs. He's wearing the black briefs Peter loves on him, thank god. Peter had vetoed the boxers with little wolves on them. Stiles is already half hard when Peter pulls the briefs down, either from the fact that it's his usual reaction to his husband or excitement from what they're about to do, Peter isn't sure. 

Peter strips down until he's as bare as Stiles, not an ounce of shame in him. Let the Bellmans look, Peter's aware he's attractive. He crawls over Stiles, covering his body with his own. He kisses him softly, murmuring against his lips. The rune tattoo over Stiles' heart glows gently, out of the view of the Bellman pack members.

"Ready, my love?" Peter asks.

"Ready," Stiles says, closing his eyes. No need for the Bellmans to see what they are in store for quite yet.

When it's just them, Peter loves to take his time with Stiles, loves to see him slowly fall apart, but this isn't just for them. Peter reaches between Stiles' legs, gently tugging on the thick plug Peter had worked into him before they left the hotel. Stiles groans as Peter eases the plug out of him, biting his lip the way that drives Peter wild.

Peter lines his cock up with Stiles' wet, open hole, slowly sinking into him. Stiles tilts his hips up, urging Peter to give him more. Peter obliges, thrusting forward until he's completely buried in Stiles' ass.

The scent of arousal permeates the room and Peter can't help but feel smug, not just at knowing the Bellman betas are watching him, but knowing plenty of them are envious of the sweet body beneath him.

Peter isn't slow or gentle, thrusting roughly into Stiles' welcoming body. There's power building between them, the runes on Stiles' body activating with the words Peter whispered and the intent Stiles forces through with his magic. 

By the time Kathryn's emissary feels the power building, it's too late. Peter sits up, no longer bothering to cover Stiles' body. The rune tattoos are shining brightly and when Stiles opens his eyes, they're glowing gold like the sun.

There are shocked noises around them, though no one is bold or foolish enough to approach them. Peter can feel the shock and anger flowing through Kathryn, but they haven't violated the rules of the ritual or the pact they made and there's nothing she can do.

Stiles cries out when Peter wraps a hand around his cock, stroking him quickly. Peter's getting close and he wants Stiles to come with him, wants everyone to see exactly what they are to each other. 

Peter roars as he comes, his eyes flashing alpha red before glowing the bright gold that matches Stiles'. Tied to him with his magic, Stiles comes, too, painting his belly with his release while Peter empties himself inside him.

Stiles takes the magic bursting between them, weaving it into something new and blanketing the entire Hale Pack. The Bellmans may be strong in numbers but the Hales are here, boosted with strong magic. 

Stiles had thought it was a bit dramatic for just a display of power, but Peter had disagreed. The Bellmans are well known for trying to run over smaller packs, for taking what isn't theirs and giving nothing back. Peter wants Kathryn Bellman to know exactly who and what she's dealing with.

Peter kisses Stiles softly before he stands, helping Stiles to his feet. They stand tall in front of the Bellman Pack, naked and proud. Peter keeps the smug grin off his face, doesn't let the giddiness he feels with Stiles' magic bubbling through him show. 

"We thank you for your hospitality, Alpha Bellman," Peter says smoothly, inclining his head. "We look forward to beginning negotiations tomorrow."

Kathryn's mouth is pinched like she bit into a lemon. Good.


	28. Peter/Stiles - Omorashi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This contains watersports. Be advised.

Peter fights down the vicious grin that wants to take over his face, tightening his arm around Stiles. Stiles thinks he's being subtle, that Peter hasn't noticed him finish the gallon water bottle on his nightstand next to them, that Peter can't feel how he's been squirming for the last hour of the movie, that Peter can't smell the desperation on him.

"Peter," Stiles finally says, voice tight. He nudges at where Peter's lying half on top of him on their bed. "Get up, I have to go to the bathroom."

"Mm, so go," Peter says.

Stiles huffs. "I'm trying, you're kinda heavy, dude."

"No," Peter says, tightening the arm he has slung over Stiles' chest. "Go now."

It takes a second for Stiles to understand what he means, but then he's blushing brightly, the scent of spiced arousal permeating the air. 

"Peter...that was once...and...we..."

"You're hurt," Peter croons in his ear, running his hand down Stiles' stomach. Stiles' breath hitches but he makes no move to get away. "We don't want you to hurt yourself."

"It's just a sprained ankle, I can get to the bathroom," Stiles says through gritted teeth.

"Just let go, baby. You'll feel so much better," Peter says. He adds a little pressure to Stiles' lower belly, rubbing in small circles. He isn't imagining the firm little bulge where Stiles' bladder is full. "That has to hurt, just let yourself go."

Stiles whines, but doesn't utter their safeword, doesn't try to get away from Peter's touch. He presses down more firmly, cooing as Stiles cries out, wetting himself.


	29. Peter/Stiles - Sleepy Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has consensual somnophilia.

Peter always sleeps soundly after murder. Stiles is always awake, fueled by adrenaline and reliving every moment, but Peter sleeps easily, calmed by taking out another threat to him or his mate. 

Stiles wakes him up slowly, lips wrapped around his soft cock. Peter loves it when he does this, has given him blanket permission as long as they don't have something important to do in the morning. Stiles sucks him gently, smug when Peter starts to harden in his mouth but not wake. He considers it a huge victory that Peter trusts him enough that he's able to sleep this soundly with Stiles, even being touched like this.

Peter groans, leg twitching as he hardens completely. Stiles sucks at him lazily, not in any hurry at all. He can hear when Peter's breath quickens, when he wakes and realizes what's happening. His hand twists in Stiles' hair, hips rocking up. Stiles hums around him, bobbing his head a bit quicker.

They have nowhere to be, no one to answer to (no one will have found the witch's body yet, after all), and Stiles can take all the time he wants getting Peter off, teasing and dragging it out until Peter's groaning, needy and desperate.

Stiles will let him come, will reward him for protecting them so well, but not quite yet.


	30. Peter/Lydia - Stockings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the healthiest of relations.

Lydia has never been a fan of stockings for everyday wear. She prefers the feeling of bare legs and she refuses in this day and age to be held to ridiculous standards of stockings being considered proper. That isn't to say she disapproves of them in other scenarios.

Lydia watches the mirror as she turns, the black skirt swishing around her thighs. She's wearing a short black dress with a low neckline, nothing obscene, with sheer black stockings. They have a dark seam up the back and if she were to lift her dress, one could see they're crotchless. It's impossible to tell when she turns in the mirror though, so she's satifised.

Peter owes her. Peter owes her a lot. They've worked on making their peace, Peter eager (though he won't show it to the others) to earn whatever forgiveness he can. She knows he wasn't sane when he bit her and tormented her mind, but only part of her cares. The other part is ready to take revenge in any way she can. 

Tonight, she's meeting Peter at the restaurant of a local hotel to pick up a few books on banshees and related fae. If he's good, she'll let him eat her out before she leaves. If he's not, well, he's certainly not getting his books back. 

Lydia strides in confidently, head held high as her heels clack against the tile floor of the lobby. Peter's already seated, an unopened bottle of her favorite red wine sitting on the table. Smart man. 

Peter stands to greet her, ever the gentleman, and walks behind her to pull out her chair for her. She smirks when she hears a sharp intake a breath, knowing he saw the back of her stockings. She looks over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised, but Peter shakes his head quickly, pushing the chair in for her to sit.

Peter's polite through dinner, never rising to the easy barbs she shoots his way. Good, he's learning. His eyes stray to the tablecloth, like he can see the stockings through it. 

"Problem?" Lydia asks, taking a sip of her wine. 

"You minx," Peter says, and it's surprisingly breathless. 

"Who said it's for you?" Lydia asks.

"Lydia," Peter says with a groan. "Please."

That's as close as the great Peter Hale gets to begging, and it's exactly what she's been waiting for. She lets him wait for a few moments, content to watch his hungry face.

"You've been good tonight," Lydia says. 

Peter knows exactly what that means, standing quickly to offer her his arm. She takes it, lets him draw her up and escort her from the restaurant. As usual, he has a hotel room booked upstairs and as usual, he's desperately hungry for her. 

Lydia sits on the end of the bed, legs primly crossed, and Peter drops to his knees before her, his hands resting lightly on her knees. She uncrosses her legs, giving him permission. Peter groans, running his hands up and down her stocking-clad legs. His hands slide up her skirt, pausing when he feels the lack of crotch in her stockings.

"Lydia," Peter says, his voice ragged. "Can I..?"

"You may," Lydia says. 

Peter doesn't waste time, flipping up the hem of her dress. Sometimes he'll tease her if he's in a playful mood or if he feels like pushing his boundaries. He doesn't tease tonight, too desperate for her. 

She's bare beneath the stockings, something he takes immediate advantage of. Peter buries himself between her thighs, licking at her slick folds. She's wet already from just the thought of this, of Peter's talented mouth. He does his best to please her, licking and sucking at her until she's trembling, close already. 

Peter undulates his tongue against the side of her clit, the most sure way to get her off, slipping two thick fingers into her. Lydia cries out, resting a hand on his head to make sure he knows not to stop. He doesn't, pressing against her g-spot, moving his tongue faster against her clit until she's coming, cunt clenching around his fingers. 

Peter works her through it, dragging her pleasure out for as long as possible until he pulls back, sensing she's reached her limit. He sucks his fingers into his mouth, sucking the taste of her off of them, his eyes on hers the whole time. 

His voice is rough when he asks, "One more?"

Lydia pretends to consider it for a moment, then wraps her hand in his hair, pulling his face down to her wet cunt. He has been very good, after all.


	31. Peter/Stiles - Fisting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. I DID IT. 31 IN 31 DAYS (62 actually, if you're reading the MCU stuff). Holy shit. You'll be back to your regularly scheduled ficcing and not seeing my name cluttering up your inbox every day.

Stiles cries out, trembling. Peter's between his legs, four fingers and the tip of his thumb buried in Stiles' loose, sloppy hole. Peter runs a soothing hand up Stiles' leg, rotating the other hand so his fingers brush Stiles' prostate.

"Just one more little push, baby," Peter coos. "You're so close to taking my fist. You want to be good, don't you?"

Stiles nods quickly. He wants to be good, he wants to feel Peter's whole hand inside him. They've been working up to this, Peter fucking Stiles with thicker and thicker toys, his slutty hole hungry for all of them. He's been waiting for this, waiting for Peter to make him take it. If he can, Peter may even give him his knot.

"Bear down for me," Peter says. "There we go, good boy."

Stiles whimpers and does what he's told, fighting not to clench up as Peter's knuckles push past his rim. There's a second where Stiles thinks he can't do it, Peter just won't fit, then Peter's through, Stiles' sagging hole struggling to close around Peter's wrist.

It's so good, much better than he'd even imagined. Then Peter clenches his hand into a fist and Stiles lets out an embarrassing gurgling sound of pleasure. Peter fucks him as best he can with his fist, his other hand jerking Stiles' hard cock.

It's so much, so overwhelming and so full, that Stiles doesn't last, coming in minutes all over his stomach. Peter stops stroking his cock, but he keeps his fist in Stiles' ass, grinning as he says, "Let's see how long until you can give me another one."

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com).


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